The Wrong Brother
by Impala-Dreamer
Summary: After a night out celebrating a hunting victory with the boys, you wake up next to the wrong brother... M for some language and implied situations, mild violence and injury in the later chapters, oh and tears. lots of tears.
1. The Mistake

You opened your eyes and instantly regretted it. A slice of sunlight cut through the motel room curtain and hit you right in the face. Your head was pounding, and your stomach was growling, nauseous and hungry all at the same time. "No mas tequila..." you groaned, turning over to get your face out of the sun. You tried to wrap your right arm under your pillow but you hit flesh as you turned on your side and it made you jump: you were not alone. Your eyes opened fully to see a tanned, naked chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Your eyes ran up from his stomach to the black anti-possession tattoo on his collarbone and then to his face. You smiled and hid your face in the pillow. Dean! You were waking up next to Dean Winchester, and he was naked. After a quick peek under the sheet, you realized you were too. What the hell happened last night!? Your head ached and you held a hand to your forehead trying to remember the events that lead you to this moment.

* * *

The case had taken forever. It was supposed to be a quick little thing, in and out: "A milk run," Dean had said. Well that was over a week ago. It had seemed like a simple vengeful spirit that at first, but it was nearly impossible to figure out what was going on. You and Sam had spent countless hours researching the family origins, talking to townsfolk, you even burned two sets of bones that turned out to be the wrong ones: it was a mess. You were grouchy and tired and once it was finally done Dean suggested the three of you go out and have some fun.

All you really wanted to do was go home and sleep for a few days, but Dean pleaded and Sam gave you the puppy-dog eyes so you caved.

You pulled on your tightest blue jeans and cleavage baring black tank top and met the boys are the car. Hell, if you were gonna have fun, maybe you could find a townie to do it with. You actually did your hair and makeup, and judging by the reactions of the boys when you approached them, you looked damn good.

"Well? Clean up nice, don't I?" You said, spinning around so they could see all of you. Sam nodded and looked away shyly. Dean licked his lips and winked. "I guess we're ready to go." He said.

There was only one bar in the sad little town and it was crowded. You managed to secure a pub table in the back while the guys bought the booze. An hour later you were glad for the seat. Four shots of tequila and two beers in you were feeling really good, and really wobbly. You batted your eyes at several of the local guys, even flat out waved at one, but no one came over. You pouted and laid your head on Sam's shoulder. "You guys are killin' my vibe! No takers tonight I guess." you said, curling your arm around his. Sam smiled down at you. "I guess you'll have to settle for us." You sat up and pecked his cheek, "It'll have to do." You sighed and stood up to go pee. You were a little more unsteady than you had thought and swayed a little. "I'm good," you laughed, seeing Sam's concerned face. "I'm sure you are Y/N/N."

Dean appeared with three more shots in his hands. He set them down and called to you, "Another round!"

"No mas tequila!" You yelled over your shoulder.

"Yes more!" He said and you turned back to the table and slammed the drink back. You wagged your finger at him, poking his chest. "You are gonna get me in trouble tonight Winchester."

Dean smirked and took his shot; "That's the plan."

There were more shots, and more beers, and more talking and more eyelash batting, but still nothing from the locals. It wasn't that bad, Sam and Dean kept you entertained with some old hunting stories you hadn't heard before, and a few that you had. Your favorite of course being the time they posed as Teddy Bear Doctors. It made you laugh way too much thinking of that giant depressed stuffed bear. You spent most of the night leaning on Sam and joke flirting with Dean. It was fun. After your fourth trip to the bathroom you lingered around the jukebox, swaying gently to the country song that filled the air. You didn't know what it was, you didn't listen to country music, but it was melodic and slow and it struck your dancing button. Your eyes returned to the tall table and saw your boys, drinking and talking with their heads down. Ideas brewed in your buzzing head and you danced slowly over to the table and wrapped your arms around Sam's neck. "Come dance with me Sammy." You whispered, your lips brushing his ear. You felt him shiver and turn his head towards you. He let out a little uncomfortable laugh, patting your arm. "No thanks Y/N."

You pulled out your biggest pouty face and whimpered, "Come on Sam, please? Dance with me. I wanna dance." You pulled back and tilted your head looking at him. He gave you a little half smile and went back to his beer. You put your hands up and looked at Dean as if to say "What the heck?" and he shrugged in silent reply. You sat back down; feeling a little rejected and watched the lucky girls on the dance floor, the ones who got a guy to dance with them. You were all quiet for a little while and the happy celebration feeling from before seemed to fade away.

After a good silent stretch Sam spoke up. "I think I'm gonna call it a night guys." He said, standing up. You looked up at him and couldn't decide what his expression was. He looked tired mostly, but you were a little on the drunk side and couldn't tell for sure. "You guys coming?" He asked.

Dean looked up at Sam and then to you and then around the bar. He sat back in his seat, "I think I'll hang out here for a little longer."

You were not ready to go back and stare at the dingy motel walls just yet so you agreed with Dean, standing up to give Sam a quick hug. He held on a moment longer than usual, his face in your hair. You pulled back. "You OK Sam?" you asked, looking up into his sad hazel eyes.

He smiled and shook his head. "I'm good. See you later."

"Another round?" Dean asked once Sam was out the door.

You bit your lip and regarded the older Winchester through your drunken haze. "I think I've had enough." You laughed, "So, yes. I'll be right back" You said and sauntered off towards the bar for more drinks.

Dean laughed and watched as you ordered more shots, leaning over the bar. You leaned with your arms on the bar and your breasts pressed together, shooting a flirty glance at a nice looking young man at the end of the bar. For the first time tonight, he actually responded, smiling at you and slowly making his way to you. _Finally!_ you thought and licked your lips seductively. Just as he was about to reach you, Dean slid right between you, leaning his elbow on the bar and turning towards you. The hot guy stopped abruptly and turned away, giving up.

"Oh come on! Seriously Dean?" You said, rolling your eyes at him.

He grinned, perfect teeth smiling at you. "What? I saved you. That guy's trouble."

You laughed, "Really? And you're an angel aren't you? Remind me never to hang out with The Winchesters when I'm looking to hook up." You shook your head and thanked the bartender as she set down two beers and two shots.

"Is it so bad to be stuck with me?" Dean said, leaning closer to you. You felt your pulse quicken and you swallowed hard. Dean had never looked at you like that before.

"You are so drunk Dean." You said, looking away before you did something stupid.

"Not yet." He said and reached for his shot glass, his hand brushed against your arm and you broke out in goosebumps. You quickly downed the amber liquid in your glass and looked away from Dean. You tried to look anywhere but in his eyes.

"Y/N…" He spoke your name, drawing your attention back to him. You turned your head so fast you got a little dizzy, your eyes landing on his full red lips. "Yeah?" you asked, mesmerized by the plump juiciness of his bottom lip. You were way too drunk to be this close to him you decided and pushed yourself away from the bar to walk away. The tequila had other ideas and instead you fell over, crashing into Dean, his hands coming up to your shoulders to brace you up.

"Whoa…" Dean laughed, his voice sending chills down your back. What was going on? Too much booze. You lingered against him, feeling his hard chest beneath your hands. You looked up into his emerald eyes and gave in, bringing your lips up to his and kissing him hard.

You felt him pull back, his hands lifting off of your shoulders, his face pulling away. You kissed him harder and then realized he was not kissing you back. You stopped and moved back away from him. His eyes were half closed, mouth hung open in shock. Your stomach dropped ten feet when you realized what had happened: You kissed Dean Winchester, and he rejected you. It's not like you were in love with him or anything, in fact you really didn't think about him like that at all, but you thought maybe if you made a move he'd at least go for it, even a little bit. You stared at him for a long minute trying to decide what to say. Nothing good popped into your head so you simply apologized. "I'm so so sorry Dean." When he didn't answer, you turned to walk away, completely embarrassed. To make matters worse he didn't stop you. You walked right out of the bar and stood in the doorway, letting the cool wash over you. You tried not to be upset about this; it was Dean after all, and you were both drunk anyway, so what did it matter? It was fine.

You turned right and started walking. You got about half a block before you realized the motel was in the other direction. Cursing yourself for drinking so much you turned around and headed the other way. You passed the bar again just as Dean was walking out.

He called your name, but you didn't stop or look at him.

"It's OK Dean, I'm just super wasted. I'm sorry." You walked on, swinging your wristlet purse, trying to act indifferent.

Dean grabbed your arm and spun you around. "Y/N…" He said again, gazing down at you with that same look from before, the one that made your knees weak. You stared up at him, inches from his face and sighed. "What do you want?" you asked, trying to muster up the strength to pull away from him. This time it was Dean that made the move, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. Your entire body shuddered. You leaned into him, kissing his mouth, breathing into him. His hands traveled up to cradle your face as he drove his tongue through your lips.

You rushed back to the motel with his arms around you, your hands sliding up under his shirt, fingers running over his body. It took a few tries to get your key in the door of your room, your vision was blurry and Dean kept running a hand down your back making you shiver. Once the door was opened you rushed inside and pulled him towards you, shoving him up against the closed door.

* * *

All of that came back to you as you lay with your face in your pillow. Dean stirred and rolled over towards you. His eyes fluttered open and seemed startled to see you next to him. He sat up quickly and pulled the sheet over himself.

"Hey Dean." You said, sitting up next to him. You smiled nervously seeing that he wasn't smiling back at you.

"Hey Y/N. Um…did we?" He asked, looking down at the clothing on the floor and then back at you. You shrugged, "Yeah I think we did."

"Shit!" He rubbed his hands down this face.

"Well damn it Dean, it wasn't that bad!" You said angrily, reaching down to collect your shirt. You pulled it on and began the search for your pants.

Dean sat still and shook his head. "Sam's gonna kill me" he said quietly.

You stopped and turned back to him. "Sam? What's Sam got to do with this?" You asked.

He didn't reply. He frowned and grabbed his pants, pulled them on quickly and got out of bed. You followed suit and pulled your jeans on. "Dean, what do you mean Sam's gonna kill you?" You pressed, leaning down over the bed as the blood pounded against your skull again. "Dean!"

Dean picked up his gray t-shirt and slipped it on over his head. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

Your hands flew to your hips and you glared at him, "If you don't tell me Sam won't have to kill you- I will."

"He's kinda got a thing for you." He said, looking away towards the door.

You froze, "What?" Your eyes narrowed, fighting the light, your head throbbing with the hangover or the new information, you couldn't tell which. "Sam… likes me? Like, likes me likes me?" You sat down on the edge of the bed and let the words sink in. "Sam Winchester… likes … me… like that…"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, he does."

You stood up in a panic. "Oh this is bad. This is really bad. I didn't know!" You rushed around the room, your arms flapping about. "Why didn't you say anything? Oh my God!"

Dean came up to you and grabbed your hands, forcing them down to your sides. You looked up at him. "Calm down." he said firmly.

"Calm down? What the fuck dude, we just had sex from what I can remember and now you tell me your brother has a 'thing' for me? How can I calm down? He _is_ gonna kill you." You pulled away from him and began chewing your thumbnail nervously. "Why didn't you say anything when I kissed you?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. We were drinking and you kept flirting and it's been a while and I don't know, when you kissed me I just kinda… forgot I guess."

"That is not something you should be forgetting!"

"Hey, you kissed me first Y/N!"

"I know but that's just because Sam left and he wouldn't dance with me and I just wanted to… well… he kinda turned me down, so I…" Your voice trailed off as you realized what you were trying to say.

"Wait, do you… like Sam?"

"I mean… yeah, I do. I think." Your head was really spinning now. "This is so not good. What am I gonna do?"

Dean bit his bottom lip, thinking. "We don't say anything. We don't tell him." He crossed his hands in front of him, "Case closed."

"You don't exactly have the best track record for lying to your brother."

"It's not lying," he said. "It's not telling."

You turned and rolled your eyes at him. "This is the worst morning after ever."

There was a knock at the door. You both froze and looked at the door. "Y/N?"

You looked wide-eyed at Dean. _'It's Sam!'_ Dean mouthed silently to you.

You yelled back with no sound: ' _Who the hell else would it be!?'_

Sam knocked at the door again. "Hey, Y/N, I brought you some coffee…"

You shot daggers at Dean with your eyes, _'What do I do?!'_

Dean gave an exaggerated shrug and ran into the bathroom, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could.

You cleared your throat and walked to the door. The bright light of morning attacked you as the door opened and you saw Sam haloed in sunshine before you. "Hey Sam." you said, shielding your sensitive eyes.

"Good morning." He smiled down at you. He looked happy this morning, which made you feel even worse than you already did. "Thought you could use some caffeine." He held out the cup to you and you took it, opening the door a little more than you meant to. Sam peered in and saw the bed a mess, blankets and sheet on the floor, pillows everywhere, your bra and panties thrown on a chair next to a pair of boxers. You held your breath and cringed knowing Sam could see all the telltale signs of drunken sex.

"Looks like you got some attention after all." He said awkwardly.

"Sam…" You bit your cheek trying to decide what to say next.

Sam smiled and punched your shoulder lightly. "Hey, good for you." He said and turned to go back to his room across the parking lot. You wanted to go to him, but you didn't know what you should say, so you just watched him walk away.

You shut the door and leaned against it rubbing your forehead. Dean emerged from the bathroom, peeking his head out to make sure Sam was gone. "Well that sucks." He said.

You closed your eyes and sighed up at the ceiling. "I am never drinking tequila again. Ever."


	2. The Case

Talk about awkward! The ride back to the bunker was one of the longest of your life. You couldn't even look at Dean; anytime your eyes met in the rearview mirror you'd both cringe, thinking about your huge mistake.

If Sam noticed he didn't mention it, doing his best to keep a steady flow of light conversation whenever it got too quiet. He acted like the same old Sammy you knew and loved except now you knew his big secret- and you were terrified he'd find out yours.

You sat behind Dean; your legs stretched out across the long bench seat and stared out the window. Your mind traced back through so many memories of you and Sam together. Researching, hunting, hanging out watching TV, going food shopping, laughing, drinking, and just being together. They all took on a different tone now, knowing about his crush, and you wondered why you didn't notice it before. Maybe because you never thought anyone like Sam could ever like you like that. You never got the guy you wanted so you learned to be the best friend, the cool girl that the guys could hang out with; the one with the sense of humor they felt at ease around. You spent so much time just being a friend to Sam it never occurred to you that the flirting or touches or sideways glances were anything more than friendly.

You had liked Sam the moment you met him, how could you not? He was so tall and fit and handsome. You wanted to run your hand through his long hair and pull him close, kiss his dimples and feel his hands on you. But you didn't just like his looks: he was the kindest, bravest person you'd ever met. He was the hero that really cared about people. He could literally save the world one day and the next still lend a caring ear for your stupid, unimportant problems. Your heart broke anytime he looked anyway but happy and all you really wanted to do was hold him and make him smile. But you had pushed it aside and set a course for friendship: no use dwelling on a dream that would never come true. But now- your heart raced when he looked at you and you kicked yourself for all the times you could have reached out and touched his face, wrapped your arms around him, kissed him, comforted him, held him but didn't.

Sam liked you. Sam Winchester wanted to be with you, and you wanted to be with him. But you were still stuck because he didn't know that you knew. And if he found out that you knew, you'd have to come clean about how you found out and that was not something you ever wanted to tell him. How could you tell him that you'd gotten tired of waiting for him, gotten too drunk and slept with his brother? There wasn't anyway he could ever find out about that and still want to be with you.

The awkwardness did not end when you got back home. In fact, the close quarters and down time seemed to exasperate the tension. Dean spent most of his time in the garage so you were at least free to roam around without too much fear of bumping into him; but then you might run into Sam, so you spent most of your time in your room.

Two days after The Tequila Incident (as you'd come to call it in your mind), you were in the kitchen making yourself a PB&J when you ran into Dean.

"Hey Y/N." He said upon finding you alone in the spacious kitchen. You cringed at the sound of his voice and slowly turned around to face him.

"Dean. What's up?" you said, dipping the knife into the jar for more peanut butter.

"Oh ya know, just came for a snack." He shrugged and walked over to stand beside you at the counter. He leaned over and grabbed the bread that was on the complete other side of you. You rolled your eyes and waited for his arm to be out of your way. He noticed your annoyance and asked what was wrong.

You gave him a really stunning 'bitchface' and looked over your shoulder for Sam before answering. Your voice was harsh but low. "You know what's wrong Dean! I'm going nuts here walking on eggshells trying to avoid you two!"

"Don't act like this is all my fault. May I remind you- you kissed me first." He said, matching your tone, but not your intensity. He was almost laughing. He casually continued making his sandwich while you stared at him, imagining yourself slapping the freckles off of his face.

"You are impossible. You know how upset I am! And what about your brother- don't you even care what we did to him?"

Dean put his knife and bread down and turned slightly to look you in the eyes. "We had an accident. And Sam doesn't need to know about it. If you want more of a plan then that out of me, I'm sorry, I don't know what to tell you. But you are acting like you're guilty and he's gonna realize it soon and figure things out. The kid's really smart. So knock it off and get back to normal!" He slapped a piece of bread on top of his creation and ripped a bite out of it, chewing it in your face.

"You are disgusting." You seethed.

"Hey guys, so get this…" Sam's familiar words rang through the kitchen and you and Dean both snapped your heads towards the door and looked at him. He stood in the doorway with his laptop in his hands, ready to show you something. He looked up and noticed the annoyed look on both of your faces. "Am I interrupting something?" He asked with a little laugh.

Dean swallowed and stepped away from you. "Not at all." He said and took his sandwich with him back to the garage, leaving you at the counter with your arms crossed.

"What's going on?" Sam's eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you. Your expression faded from annoyance to sympathy. You tried to shake it off and smiled at him. "Oh your brother's just being a jerk. Nothing new." You said and held out your completed sandwich to him, "Hungry?"

Sam looked at your suspiciously, "No thanks. But I think I found us a case." He said and set the laptop down on the table gesturing for you to come look.

You put your food down and walked over to him, standing about a foot away and leaning over to see the screen. Sam looked at you questioningly, he knew you were half blind without your glasses and couldn't see at that distance, so you moved closer to get a better look. You didn't want to admit it but Dean was right, if you didn't get back to normal soon, Sam would start asking questions.

"So whatcha got?" you asked, trying to follow the mass of information on the little screen. There were about 6 windows open at once, none of them making much sense to you.

"Just a little thing, about a two hour drive west of here. Family moves into an old house, husband suddenly dies of a heart attack a few weeks later. Perfect health, no issues. Few days after that, their teenage son falls down the stairs and almost breaks his back. Says he was pushed. No one else was home at the time." Sam talked and pointed to various windows as he did, showing you news clippings and maps.

"Let me guess, he says the lights were flickering like crazy before it happened." You said in a spooky voice, trying to regain your sense of humor and ease around Sam.

"Yup. So you wanna go check it out?" He stood up and looked at you.

"Um..." you looked up at your friend, he seemed excited and hopeful. "We just got back..."

"I know. And it's been weird around here since. I wanna get out of here. Come on, it'll be easy."

"That's what ya'll said about the last one." You bit the inside of your cheek, remembering what happened after 'the last one'. Sam's eyes opened a bit wider and his lip came out a little, preparing to full on 'puppy-eye' you. You held up your hand to stop him. "You just put those dog eyes away sir. I'll go get dressed. You get your brother."

"I thought maybe it could just be the two of us." He said smiling at you. You sighed and looked up at him. Would it be so bad to be alone with Sam? It wouldn't be the first time you'd hunted without Dean; you go on quick runs with Sam all the time. _Just play it cool_ , you told yourself. "Ok dude. Let's get rollin'."

* * *

You posed as insurance adjusters to get access to the family and house. The mother was a little hesitant to speak to you but she opened right up for Sam's sympathetic smile. While he interviewed her in the posh living room you snuck away with your E.M.F. reader to tour the house and check for spirits.

The house was huge; it was an old Victorian with about 10 rooms on each floor. The stairs that the son had 'fallen' down turned out to be a long and curved mahogany staircase that wrapped around the entryway. An ornate Tiffany chandelier hung from the ceiling illuminating the stairs, casting rainbows and faint amber lights on the walls. Your equipment wasn't showing anything abnormal until you reached the top of the stairs; it redlined as you got to the top and stood on the balcony. You walked around a bit more, exploring the second floor. The place was gorgeous, you had to admit, but it felt dark and uncomfortable. Probably due to the ghost that was pushing boys down the stairs and stopping hearts.

Back in the car you and Sam updated each other on your findings.

"There's definitely something in there Sam. It doesn't feel right in there at all." You said, shaking the chill out of your arms.

"I agree. Mrs. Harris didn't see anything either time, but then again she wasn't home. She did say she was having someone come in to fix the wiring because the lights keep going on and off. And it's cold in the foyer." Sam laughed.

"Speaking of lights, did you see that chandelier? Beautiful! Whoever built that place had amazing taste." You sat back in your seat and looked out the window at the house again. "I mean, it's haunted, but I could live in a place like that."

Sam laughed again, watching you. "I didn't know you had such traditional taste in architecture."

"There's a lot you don't know about me Sammy." You winked and then quickly looked away. You had meant it to be sexy and flirty and then remembered there was indeed something big he didn't know about you. "Um… let's get some food or something I wanna do a little digging into the house." you said quickly trying to change the subject.

Sam nodded and pulled the car away from the haunted Harris Estate.

Your research lead you to believe that the spirit belonged to Isabella Perry, the wife of Jonathan Perry who had been a rich factory owner back in the 1890s. He had built the house for his wife and essentially locked her away in it. He made his way through many of the local townswomen for years, and when poor Isabella had finally confronted him about his philandering, they fought. It had ended with Isabella being thrown off the balcony in the entryway, falling to her death.

"Check this out- after Jonathan died in 1934, the house was left to his brother, Rodney, who died of a trip down the stairs that broke his neck. Corner's report says that he probably had a heart attack at the top which caused his fall." You tossed the printout of the report onto the clean motel bed and did a little victory dance. "Boom. Knowledge."

Sam watched your dance and laughed. Sometime in the last few hours you'd relaxed with him and gone back to your old silly self. Sam seemed to appreciate it, laughing and joking with you like always.

"Good work." He said and turned his laptop towards you, showing you the screen. "Turns out poor Rodney wasn't the only one. House has changed hands over 4 times since then and each time the males of the house have had mysterious accidents." He pointed to something on the screen that you couldn't see so you went over and sat next to him, taking the computer from him. Sam leaned back on his hands and stared at you. You could feel him looking but you kept your eyes on the screen.

"Well, so we're done here. Research complete! Crazy old Isabella hates men. Did you find out where she's buried?" You asked, scrolling through the pages.

"Yup. She wasn't. She was cremated."

You sighed, "Of course she was." You rubbed your eyes and lay your head on Sam's shoulder without thinking about it. Sam brought his hand up to your shoulder and you panicked, standing up quickly and searching your brain for an excuse. "Um… I think there's a picture of Isabella in the article about the house that I found. Maybe there's something in there with her that she's tied to?" You sprinted back to your computer and sat down, back to Sam.

He cleared his throat and stood up to look at the picture with you. You felt like such a jerk, but you didn't know what else to do. Sam pointed to one of the photos. Isabella was sitting in front of a large window in the house, embroidering something. She wore a dark dress with a high collar and a white cameo at her throat. "Maybe the cameo?" He suggested.

"Maybe, but how the hell are we gonna find a necklace in that place?"

He pulled out his phone and dialed. "Mrs. Harris? This is Mr. Buckingham from… yes… hello. Sorry to bother you, but we just had a few more things to check out I was wondering if we could come by this evening?" Sam paced the room as he spoke. "Oh, I see, I'm so sorry to hear that…yes…I will…thank you." Sam hung up and returned to your side. "Well Ms. McVie, it seems that Isabella wasn't done with the Harris boy. Scotty had a stroke shortly after we left, his mother found him in the guest room at the end of the hall. He's in the hospital and she'll be there all night."

"So a little ninja action then?" You asked, eyebrows rising in anticipation of your B&E. "Let's get the masks!"

The sun had set and the house was dark. You held the flashlight as Sam expertly picked the lock on the backdoor. You weren't as proficient in that area yet, no matter how many times the guys tried to teach you.

You slipped inside and instantly split up. "I'll take the basement." You said, heading towards the door in the kitchen you'd noticed that morning. Sam clicked on his flashlight and headed out towards the living room.

The basement wasn't that creepy; you'd seen plenty worse. It was thankfully fairly organized and you searched through big moving boxes, looking for anything that looked old. It was all newer stuff, probably from the Harris' move. After ten minutes of nothing you heard Sam calling for you.

"Y/N? Anything?"

You ran up the stairs towards his voice. "Not a damn thing. It's all new stuff down there."

"Yeah, no luck on the main floor either. I guess we head upstairs. You want the attic?" He asked as you walked to the curved staircase.

"Sure, why not? I didn't see nearly enough spiders in the basement." You joked; he knew you hated spiders. Who didn't?

You left Sam on the second floor and headed up the creaky attic stairs; at least it was a full staircase and not some drop-down ladder, those were the worst. Once at the top your flashlight landed on a goldmine of antiques. You did a tiny happy dance for yourself before jumping in, weeding through boxes and multiple ancient china cabinets. Finding nothing you stopped and spun around, flashlight passing over a sea of treasures. At the other end of the expansive attic there was a tall dark wardrobe. You shrugged and made your way over to it, the doors pulling open easily. Inside amidst a trove of forgotten fabric and hats there was a dusty blue velvet box that called your attention. Your fingers danced across it before opening the clasp to find the cameo you were searching for. You snapped the box closed and grabbed it, heading for the stairs.

You called to Sam as you descended. "Hey Sammy! I found it!" Your feet landed on the bottom step and you heard him cry out.

"Sam!" You yelled and ran down the hallway towards the sound of his voice.

"It's OK! Just get rid of the necklace!" He yelled. He was in the bedroom at the end of the hall, Isabella's form appeared in the doorway and you watched as she slammed the door shut, blocking you from Sam.

"Sam!" You reached the door and turned the knob ineffectively. You heard him behind the door, grunting as he fought back the spirit. "Y/N – Burn it!" He yelled again.

You opened the jewelry box and set it down on the floor. The supplies you needed were in your jacket pockets and you pulled them out now, pouring a good amount of salt on the cameo. "Hurry up!" Sam called, your fingers were shaking as you doused the necklace in lighter fluid and dropped the lit match on top. You waited and listened. There was no usual scream of the spirit as it was dispersed. "Sam?" You ran to the door and it was still locked. "Sam I burned it, I don't think it worked!"

"It didn't!" He yelled and then went silent. There was a loud thud from behind the door. The spirit had Sam by the throat, using its preternatural strength to keep him pinned to the wall.

You kicked at the door, shoving it with all your might, begging the wood to give and let you in the room.

You could hear Sam gasping for air and then call out your name. You moved back down the hallway and took a running start, slamming hard into the ancient door and it finally gave way. You crashed through landing flat on your stomach, your knees and hands scraping against the hardwood floor. Isabella turned her face to see you and smiled menacingly. She turned back to Sam, releasing her hold on his neck and shoving her unearthly hand through his chest.

"All you men are the same," she cackled. "And you all need to pay." She squeezed around his heart and Sam gagged, clawing at her arms, trying to get away.

You looked around the room for anything to help you and saw it- the window across the room was the same window from the picture where Isabella had sat, embroidering. In the windowsill was an old pillow with a hand embroidered flower pattern on it's front, the thread tainted with Isabella's blood and hair. That was it! You ran to it, pulling your supplies from your jacket again as you went. You threw the pillow to the floor and repeated your burning ritual. The instant the match hit the pillow the spirit released Sam and shrieked as her visage exploded in a cascade of sparks and flame.

When she was gone you ran to Sam. He had slumped down against the wall and lay on the floor. "Sam?" You shook his shoulders. He took a deep breath and seemed to come back to life, sitting up and staring at you, eyes wide with adrenaline. "You OK Sam?" You touched his cheek and pushed his hair back behind his ear. He nodded, reaching out for you. He had almost died! You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"Thanks Y/N." He smiled and you leaned forward, pressing your lips gently to his. You meant it to be a quick kiss of relief but you found that you couldn't pull away. He had almost died and all you could think of was him dying without knowing how you felt. Tequila Night be damned, you loved Sam and he should know that. You pulled back and looked into his eyes waiting for a response. He swallowed hard and reached up, placing both of his hands on your face. He pulled you forward and kissed you back. It was the perfect kiss: a year's worth of pent up emotion and longing and near death misses all packaged together in one amazing kiss.

* * *

You didn't talk about it as you cleaned up the two piles of ashes and left the house. You didn't talk about it on the ride back to the motel. You had said goodnight and he left you at the door of your room. You sat on your bed and stared at the floor for a while. _Did you do something wrong? He did kiss you back, but why go silent after?_ You got up and turned the shower on. _He does like you; maybe he was just wrapped up in almost dying._ You pulled your shirt off. _Maybe you just shocked him. Tomorrow he'll overanalyze it with you. It'll be fine._

There was a knock at the door and you went to answer it, forgetting your shirt on the bathroom floor. You opened the door a crack and saw Sam standing there. "Hey" You said, standing behind the door, head peaking out.

"Hey. Um, can I…" He began to speak and then turned away, unsure and shy.

"Sam…" You opened the door and stepped forward. He turned and saw you standing there in just your plain white bra and jeans. He stepped forward and grabbed you around the waist, lifting you up as he kissed you again. Your hands went up around his neck, running through his hair. He spun you around and shut the motel room door.

* * *

 **to be continued...**


	3. The Confession

It was like a door had been opened. A door that had been locked and sealed shut your whole life and now you could step through it whenever you wanted.

You spent the night with Sam, neither of you getting much sleep. You talked and kissed and touched and made love until you collapsed onto the bed, your hands never leaving each other's bodies. Sam kept his eyes on your all night. He seemed afraid to let you go, as if he would close his eyes and you'd disappear. Sometime in the early morning you had drifted off to sleep, lying naked against him, your head on his shoulder, hand over his heart. Sam covered your hand with his own and kissed your forehead. "I love you Y/N," he whispered. "Love you too Sam…" you muttered, half asleep.

It was so amazing to wake up next to him. Soft golden afternoon light peeked through the curtains and fell across his face. You stayed in bed holding each other contently until your stomach demanded attention, growling loudly through the quiet room.

You hid your embarrassed expression in the pillow and laughed. "I think I might need some food."

Sam laughed and rubbed his hand down your back. "Lunch sounds good."

"Yeah but something substantial - a salad's not gonna do it for me right now."

"You sound like Dean." He laughed again. You sat up pulling the sheet with you. "Let's not talk about your brother please." Your voice was harsher than you meant it to be.

"Everything OK with you two? You've both been acting strange lately."

You stared at him with your mouth open for a second before your brain turned back on. You stood up and headed towards the bathroom. "Yeah. No problem. It's all good." Sam looked at you, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. You stopped and crawled back into the bed with him, "I don't want to talk about Dean. Please. Can't we just be happy for a little while? I'm so happy right now." You kissed him gently hoping to change the subject. "Aren't you happy?" You asked, pulling back and rubbing your nose against his.

He smiled, closing his eyes "I am very happy."

"Good." You kissed him again, sinking into it this time, lying back down on top of him. His strong arms came up around you and rolled you down onto the bed. Your stomach groaned again loudly making you both laugh.

"Let's go find some pancakes huh?" Sam said, releasing you with a final peck on the lips.

You rode back to the bunker with your head in the clouds, and your hand in Sam's. The ride was long, but the road was clear; your window was open and the breeze blew through your hair. You watched the sun as it set, not thinking about anything but you and Sam; how happy you were and how stupid it was that you'd waited this long. It wasn't until you saw the exit sign for Lebanon that a dark cloud began to creep into your mind, a sharp tendril of anxiety wound its way through your gut, reminding you that there were still things yet to be dealt with, confessions yet to be spoken.

Sam pulled into the garage and parked the car. You rolled up your window and took your seatbelt off, but didn't move to open your door. Sam noticed the look of worry on your face and put his hand on your knee.

"Are you OK Y/N?"

You turned and smiled, "Yeah. I just…I'm afraid that once we open these doors and our feet hit the floor the spell's going to be broken and everything will be different."

"It will be different and it will be great." Sam said. You tilted your head and shook it, disagreeing with him. "I feel like it'll be bad." You said.

Sam took your hand and kissed it. "Listen to me: every time I've ever had anything good, it's gone to hell, sometimes literally. But this is the first time I'm not looking over my shoulder waiting for the other shoe to drop. This time I'm not worried about something bad happening. I don't know what it is, but I can't be anything but happy about this. I love you, and whatever comes next we'll figure it out. It will be different, but it won't be bad." Somewhere in the middle of his speech you'd noticed you were crying. You couldn't help it: big fat guilty tears spilled down your cheeks, marking your face and dropping onto your shirt. Sam ran his thumb across your cheek to wipe the water away. "I wish you'd tell me what's wrong."

You shook your head and wiped at your face with your sleeve. "Sorry, I'm sure you're right. Everything will be great."

Dean was sitting alone in the library with a beer and his computer when you and Sam came in. "How'd it go?" He asked, closing the laptop and turning to face you both.

"Fine." You leaned forward on the back of the chair across from Dean. "Found ghost. Killed ghost. Mission accomplished."

Sam came up next to you and rubbed your shoulders, "Y/N saved my life. She was awesome." You sighed and laughed "It wasn't that bad." Dean eyed you suspiciously and you ducked down awkwardly to move away from Sam. You turned and smiled up at him. "I think I'm gonna go unpack. Maybe have a shower." You started to walk away and Sam caught your hand, pulling you close to him.

"I'll see you later." He said and kissed you sweetly on the lips. You could almost hear Dean choke on his beer behind you. "Yup," You said quickly and tried not to run the entire way to your room.

During the next few weeks you fell into a nice routine. You and Sam went to bed in separate rooms but inevitably woke up together. Days were much the same as before, research and cataloguing and cleaning, nothing really had changed except there were a few kisses thrown in here and there, and a little more cuddling and hand holding than before. Dean seemed to accept what was going on, and after a few days he seemed even glad about it, smiling when he caught the two of you doing anything cutesy and teasing you mercilessly for it.

You and Dean had not spoken a word about your mistake, and you hadn't even come close to telling Sam. The longer you didn't say anything, the more sense it made not to bring it up. That night was fading into the background like something that happened back in high school, something that didn't really matter anymore. You were happy. Sam was happy. Hell, even Dean was happy. Why bring it up now?

However domestic bliss was not enough to entertain three hunters, and soon it was obvious you all needed to see some action. You and Dean were in the library, he was on his computer and you were attempting to read a book, your feet propped up on the table. The boredom was so strong you had read the same sentence four times so far, and none of the words had sunk in. You began tapping your pen on your teeth, the sound echoed in the big room.

Dean sighed deeply. "Could you stop please?"

"I could, yes." You replied and continued to tap.

"Will you?"

You stopped and threw the pen down onto the table. You put your book down as well and swung your feet around, scooting your chair closer to the table; it scrapped loudly against the floor. Dean grumbled slightly but kept his eyes on his screen.

It was quiet for moment and you tried to read your sentence again. The words jumbled together and looked like tiny blurs across the page. You clicked your tongue in annoyance and the pop sounded impressive as it bounced off the high ceilings above you. You did it again, smiling at your new game. You clicked yet again, this time playing with your lips to alter the sound.

Dean growled, "If you don't stop I am going to stab you."

You narrowed your eyes at him and slowly clicked your tongue again; the resulting pop was the loudest yet.

Dean slammed his computer shut and leaned forward. "What the hell is your problem?"

"I don't have a problem. You do!" You spat back at him.

"I'm gonna stab you now. Just sit there and let me get my knife."

You rolled your head back against the chair. "I'm so bored!"

Dean laughed. "You're like a cranky little kid. Enjoy the downtime, it don't happen too often."

"Can't we go kill something? I'm getting antsy." You whined.

"Why don't you go bother your boyfriend?" Dean said, leaning back into his seat. "By the way…"

"What?"

"Did you ever tell him? You know, about… you know?"

"I know what you mean!" You snapped your head up and looked around for Sam. "And shut up!"

Dean nodded. "So that's a 'no'."

"Why would I tell him? What good would that do any of us? Things are going really well."

"So well that you are lying to him everyday."

"I seem to recall you saying it wasn't lying, it was 'not telling'."

Dean raised his hands in silent surrender. "If you say so," he conceded.

"You just keep your mouth shut and we'll all be fine." You hung your head over the book and slammed your forehead into it. "AHHH! These words aren't even English anymore!" You tossed the book aside and sat back. Dean gave a little chuckle and opened his computer again.

"Oh…" He said after a few minutes. "Oh hey…" There was a pep in his voice, a glimmer of excitement.

"Please share with the rest of the class Mr. Winchester." You said, looking for any kind of distraction.

"Well, Ms. Y/L/N, there seems to be a case…"

You shot up out of your seat. "Let's go! Gas up the Impala!"

Dean laughed and looked up at you. "Don't you wanna hear what

it is first?"

"Does it matter? Whatever it is we get to kill it, right? So let's go!" You jumped up like a child on Christmas morning.

Turns out there had been a string of murders, every month for the last four months, apparent animal attacks that left the victim with their hearts missing: obviously werewolves. But the strange part was the animals seemed to be on the move, starting in Bloomington, Minnesota and essentially traveling down I-35; the last victim found in a park in Mason City, Iowa. The three of you started there, gathering info and basically waiting to see where the next attack would be. The only good news was that there were always three murders spanning the three nights of the full moon, so once the first happened, you had time to swoop in and figure things out.

You had gotten two rooms at the motel as usual, except this time Dean was the one staying alone. He didn't seem to like it and was constantly in your and Sam's room, making it essentially home base. By the end of the week the room was littered in fast food wrappers, papers, beer bottles and books.

You were attempting to clean up some of the mess when Dean barged in carrying a fresh six-pack and dropped onto the clean bed with a groan of the springs. "You have your own room you know," you said, bending down to pick up the bottle cap he just threw to the carpet.

"Yeah but your room is cozier." He flipped on the TV without looking at you.

The door opened again and Sam appeared, returning from another family member interview. He wore his dark gray fed-suit and looked just perfect. You stood up and met him at the door, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a deep kiss.

"I missed you," you said, pulling back just enough to get the words out.

"I missed you too," he said, his hands locking around your waist. You kissed again and Dean cleared his throat behind you.

"Ahem." He said loudly.

Sam broke away from you and took off his suit jacket, flipping it over the back of a chair. "Don't you have your own room?" He asked his lounging brother.

"I tried that already. This room's comfier." You answered for Dean, rolling your eyes.

"Actually I said 'cozier'." Dean said, taking a long drink of his beer.

"Actually I said 'cozier'." You said mocking him in a child's voice.

"Ok. Don't make me separate you two." Sam held his hands up between you both and laughed. "Don't you want to hear what I found out today?"

You and Dean both looked at Sam and waited. "Yeah, what?" Dean finally asked after Sam didn't answer.

He removed his tie and sat down on the other bed. "Actually nothing new." You laughed at him from across the room. "So we just have to wait and see what happens tonight." Sam continued. "And where."

"Great. Let's go out. I need a drink." Dean said, finishing the rest of his beer and tossing the empty bottle on the nightstand. It fell over and spilled out the last drops.

"You are really just a pig in a plaid shirt aren't you?" You said, arms crossed, sneering at the new mess. "I just cleaned that."

"Yeah, sorry. You coming?" He stood up and walked towards the door, brushing past you on purpose. You teetered and pushed him back.

"Hey! I will separate you!" Sam said again, laughing.

"He started it!" You yelled in defense, pointing to Dean.

"Yeah well I'll end it too!" He spat back.

"I'll end YOU." You got up in his face as best you could, trying to look tough. He just laughed at you and walked out the door.

"Seriously, you guys coming?" He called.

Sam came up from behind and wrapped you in a tight hug. "You wanna go?" He asked, kissing your ear.

"Only if you promise to dance with me."

"I promise." He said, and you turned to kiss him on the lips, your hands rubbing down his chest.

"Come on!" Dean called again from the parking lot.

You growled. "Next time he stays home."

Sam did keep his promise and you finally understood why he had refused the first time you asked him to dance: he was terrible. The only things that made it bearable for you were the two beers you'd already drank and the feeling of having Sam all to yourself, close against you. You danced slowly, your head against his chest, rocking gently and ignoring it when he stepped on your toes.

Dean called over and you reluctantly left the dance floor, meeting him at the bar for a round of shots. "Don't worry, it's not tequila." He teased, and you shot him a nasty look.

"I thought you liked tequila." Sam said, reaching over you to get his glass.

"Oh she loves tequila." Dean slurred. Apparently he had been slamming them back while you were occupied over by the jukebox.

"Why don't you shut your mouth Dean?" If looks could kill, he'd be dead already. You were getting really tired of his crap lately, and now he was making you nervous on top of that. You raised your shot and proposed a quick toast "To killin' some wolves tomorrow." You drank it quickly, wincing as the whiskey burned your throat. Sam drank his as well and then leaned down to capture your lips. He pushed at you until your back hit the bar and you slipped your arms around him, hands reaching up under his white button down shirt, pulling him closer.

Dean coughed loudly next to you and you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. He signaled to the bartender and ordered another round of shots. Sam finally released you, setting you down on the nearest stool. He stood between you and Dean, not picking up on anything other than the usual teasing that occurred between you two.

The bartender filled the glasses again and Dean swallowed his immediately, gesturing for another. It took a lot to get him drunk, but he was starting to show it.

Sam gave a look of concern to his brother asking, "You OK Dean?"

Dean shrugged it off and drank some of his beer. "You know what happens when Y/N drinks tequila don't you Sammy?" His voice was thick and the tone was mean, like he was baiting you into a fight.

"Dean…" You sat forward and tried to shut him up with your eyes.

Sam looked back and forth between the two of you, confused. Dean didn't look at him, he stared right back at you. Suddenly a laugh burst out of him, shaking his whole body.

"What's wrong with you?" Sam asked, growing more concerned every minute.

"He's drunk and mean, that's what's wrong. Let's go Sam." You stood up and pulled at his arm.

Dean kept on laughing. "Oh Sammy, when she drinks tequila, it's a magical night."

You pulled on Sam's arm again, desperate to move him away from his brother. "Come on Sam, he's wasted."

"Oh I'm not," Dean chuckled, drinking more of his beer. "Not like you were that night. Oh Sam, she was so drunk."

Your stomach flipped in on itself, you shut your eyes and pulled Sam's arm again. He was like an immovable giant; frozen, staring at Dean. "What are you talking about?" He looked down at you, "What is he talking about?"

"I don't know, he's gone… come on Sam, let's go back to the room." You pleaded, trying not to look as guilty and incriminated as you felt. Sam would not move. He looked down at you as you begged him to leave and very slowly asked again, "What's he talking about Y/N?"

Dean laughed again behind him and you silently wished he would choke on his beer. You looked up at Sam; your eyes were huge and full of guilt. You felt the familiar twist in your chest that meant tears were forming; they made their way up to your eyes and stung as they waited for your blink to release them. "Sam…I…well, maybe we should…"

You were interrupted as Sam's other sleeve was pulled, turning him towards Dean. "We slept together Sam. There, I said it! It's out now." Dean sat back and seemed proud of himself.

Sam's head bounced back and forth between you and Dean. "What?" His calm was quickly fading, you could see that old fire burning behind his eyes.

"Yeah, back in Indiana. You left us at the bar, and boy she jumped on me. I felt bad about it, but there was no stopping her."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You yelled at Dean and then stepped in front of Sam, putting your hands on his arms, trying to get him to look at you. "Sam, that's not what happened. I mean…it wasn't like that…"

Sam wouldn't look at you. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he spoke; "Did you sleep with my brother?"

You blinked, releasing the waiting tears and they spilled from your eyes in a river of remorse. You nodded. "Say it out loud." He said. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

"Sam…" You shook your head, full on crying now, your hands still held his arms in place, but he wouldn't look you in the eye. "Say it!" His voice was low and fierce but painfully slow.

"I did. I'm so sorry. I meant to tell you so many times, but it meant nothing and it would have just upset you, I didn't…we were so drunk and you left and… I'm so so sorry Sam. Please, look at me." You moved a hand up to his face, trying to get him to look at you. He slapped your hand away and you moved back away from him quickly: you knew he'd never hit you, but it sure looked like he wanted too.

Dean jumped up and put his hand on Sam's arm. "Dude, calm down." He wasn't laughing anymore, reality had snuck in and sent him crashing back down to Earth. "It was a mistake and we're both really sorry."

Sam bowed his head and a small sarcastic laugh escaped his lips.

"Can we go talk about this?" Dean asked him, dropping his hand.

Sam looked up at you finally. His face was red, eyes dripping, mouth set in a hard line. Suddenly his arm came up and before you knew what was happening he landed a hard right hook on Dean's jaw. Dean fell forward onto the bar and then slumped back onto his stool. He rubbed at his face but didn't say a word.

Sam turned and headed for the door. You called to him and grabbed his hand quickly. "Sam, please!"

He stopped and spun around, ripping his hand from yours. He stood, towering over you for a moment; his anger sizzled through the air. You could feel it pulsing out of him and you backed away slowly. You watched through tear soaked-lashes as he rushed out of the bar.


	4. The Fall Out

You wanted very much to punch Dean with all your strength until he fell over begging for you to stop, but Sam had already beaten you to it. A large red welt was beginning to rise on his jaw where Sam's fist had connected.

"Why did you do that?" You yelled at Dean. He sat up to talk but you didn't want to hear his response; you grabbed your bag and followed Sam out of the dirty bar. He hadn't gotten too far and you ran at full speed to catch up with him. You called to him but he kept walking, his hands in his pockets, back hunched over.

"Sam…" you finally reached him and brought a tentative hand up to his arm. He didn't stop walking and you struggled to match his long quick strides, out of breath and crying. "Sam, please stop. Can you talk to me?" He came to a dead stop and turned to face you. The anger was still emanating from him, but a touch of sadness had crept into his face as well and his cheeks were marked with the ghosts of his tears.

Your heart broke to see him crying like it always did, but this time it was a million times worse since you were the cause of his tears. He stood silently before you with his head down. "Sam, please say something" you begged, thinking that his silence was worse than anything he could say to you. You were wrong:

"You lied to me. This whole time you've been lying to me." His voice was deep and thick as he pushed through the tears.

"No Sam, I haven't been lying. I never told you, but I never lied."

"It's the same thing. You kept this from me. And Dean…he knew. He knew I was in love with you and he still…" his words fell away and his eyes trailed towards the bar and back, never landing on your face. You desperately wanted him to look at you, to stop and listen and let you try and make this right.

"It wasn't Dean's fault. He was right, I kissed him. It was stupid, I was mad that you left, that you wouldn't dance with me." You laughed bitterly at how stupid you had been and wiped your eyes with your sleeve. "Sam I didn't know how you felt, if I had known, if you'd said something, I never ever would have… Sam I love you. I've loved you for so long. Can't we move past this?"

"I don't know," he said, his hazel eyes finally coming to rest on yours. "I don't know Y/N."

"Sam, please…" you reached up for him again and he moved away, your fingers barely brushing his skin.

"You lied." He said again. His voice was just a whisper but it echoed in through you. He was right; you'd lied to him, but you could fix it, he had to let you fix it. Sam started walking away. You grabbed his hand and again he pulled away, not wanting to feel your touch.

"Sam, come on. Let's go back to the motel and talk. Please don't leave me here like this." You felt the tears returning. They had never really left; it was just a fresh flood running down your face.

"I can't." he said, "I need some time."

What could you do? You knew how he was, knew how he thought. All you could do was let him walk away from you and wait.

* * *

Sam didn't come back to your room that night. You hadn't slept at all, sitting up in the chair by the window you watched through the sheer curtains for him to appear.

Dean stumbled back to the motel around two a.m. You watched him turning circles in the parking lot, debating whether or not he should knock on your door. Thankfully he decided against it and retreated to his own room.

Your eyes grew heavy as the morning approached and eventually your head fell to your chest as you drifted off to sleep. It was blessedly free of dreams and when the knocking on the door woke you a few hours later it felt like you had just closed your eyes, like no time had passed. You jumped up to open the door hoping to see Sam, but it was the wrong brother; Dean stood in the open doorway with a takeaway tray holding three coffee cups.

"I uh…here" He said, pushing the tray into your hands. You took it and stepped back to let him in the room.

"Thanks but we don't need three."

"Sam's not here?" Dean asked, looking around at the empty room.

You sighed and put the tray down on the table. You took a cup and went back to your chair looking out of the dingy window. "No. He never came back." you said.

"Huh, well, I'm sure he'll turn up. Did you call him?" Dean took a cup and sat down on the edge of the unused bed.

"Did I call him?" You laughed bitterly. "I called him a thousand times. He turned the phone off completely around one. I left a dozen messages. I don't know. He's gone." You picked at the white plastic lid on the cup, ripping at the opening.

"He'll come back soon. Probably wants to be alone for a bit. He'll come around."

You turned around and stared at him, shaking your head. "Why did you do that?" Your voice cracked, tears making their threatening march up through your chest. "Why Dean? You fucked everything up."

Dean hung his head and stared into his coffee. "I had to tell him, it was eating me up. Every time I looked at you guys together I thought about it and I had to tell him."

You put your cup down and stood up. "You just had to tell him? You'd think Dean Winchester would be able to handle a little guilt after all this time. How many times have you done this to him? Kept secrets, lied to him, and what, this is the one time you couldn't handle it and had to spill the beans and ruin everything? What did I ever do to you? Why do you hate me? I don't get it." Your voice was rising in pitch as the tears began to fall, you were almost screaming at the end of your rambling. Dean looked up and you could see how sorry he really was.

"I don't hate you Y/N." He said quietly. He was calm and steady, the complete opposite of you. "You're like my little sister, you're family. But no, I can't lie to Sam anymore. I wish to God I could take that night back, but I can't; and every time I saw him look at you, he was so happy and I just thought, if we don't tell him now and he finds out, he'll never forgive us. At least now there's a chance."

"I really don't think there is a chance. I've never seen him so angry." You brought your hands up to cover your face, the tears were coming in full streams, you gulped for air and just let it all come pouring out. Dean stood up and came to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and patting your head gently. "Hey, hey, it's OK."

You pulled back, knocking the coffee in his hands. "It's not OK Dean. If it were OK, Sam would be here right now. Not you." You sank down onto the bed, hands on your knees and continued your crying fit. Dean put his coffee down and sat next to you, his hand rubbing your back. He didn't speak; he just sat with you until you began to calm down. "I don't know what I'm gonna do." You said in a whisper as the tears were slowing.

"I wish I had an answer." Dean said, his hand still on your back. You turned towards him and put your head on his shoulder, grabbing his shirt and pulling him into a hug.

"Well that's just perfect." Sam said from the doorway. You and Dean jumped apart instantly; you wiped your eyes and stood up, amazed and thankful to see Sam finally there.

"Sam, where were you? I was so worried." You went to him and reached to take his hand. He pulled away, walking past you to the other side of the room. He grabbed his bag and started shoving stuff in.

"I just came to get my stuff." He said, refusing to look at your or his brother.

"What do you mean? Where are you going?" You stammered, trying to keep calm and get him to look at you. Sam didn't answer, he just kept collecting his few belongings and cramming them into his duffle bag.

Dean got up and went to the door. "I'm gonna give you guys a minute." He said quietly as he left. Your head was spinning now, trying to find anything you could say to make Sam stop and talk to you. Nothing good was coming to the surface so you stood there, watching him and hating yourself.

When he was done packing he stopped and turned to you. His face was blank, like a Sam Halloween mask, you couldn't see anything behind it as he looked at you. "I can't be around you guys right now." He said simply, it wasn't angry or hurt, it was just a fact.

You couldn't keep your mouth shut even though you knew you should. "Sam, I'm so sorry. Please let's talk about this. Don't do this to us, please..." You went to him again, trying to touch him, if he would just let you touch him...

"You did this to us Y/N." He said, voice still steady and emotionless. "You broke us."

Your mouth hung open but no words came out. Your breath stopped and you felt something twist and snap in your chest, like a knife being turned inside you. It was sharp and hot and threatened to take you down. As Sam turned away and walked out the door you realized what that pain was: it was your heart breaking in half.

* * *

It felt strange, like you were stoned; you were there but not there, distant from yourself. You sat in the booth across from Dean in the little greasy diner and stared down at your untouched cheeseburger. Dean had pulled you out of your room a little while ago and insisted that you come eat something. Sam had been gone for a few hours and you spent the whole time trying to go over everything in your head, but you couldn't remember any of the good stuff, just the look on his face when he left. Your head was aching, probably from dehydration. You'd been crying for what felt like days. You rubbed your fingers down through the condensation on your water glass and looked out the window.

"You should eat." Dean said again. "You'll feel better."

"I doubt it."

"He does this all the time- he gets mad and disappears for a while. One time he was gone almost a month, but he always comes home."

You took a sip of water and shook your head. You were all out of words. Dean would stay hopeful and wait for Sam to return, but you knew he wouldn't. It was over. Your stomach rumbled and you gave up and took a bite of your burger. You couldn't even taste it, your sadness had made its way through your entire body; turning off everything that wasn't necessary to keep you alive.

Dean's phone went off and you jumped, pulled out of your depression for a moment of hope.

"What is it?" You asked, swallowing. "Is it Sam?"

"No..." He was reading a long text. "It's the case. Ellsworth, Iowa. Another vic, same M.O." he set the phone down and went back to his food.

"So... are we gonna go?" you asked, a little confused. You were still technically working a case even if one of you had left.

"You still want to? I can call someone else. I think Tommy Haines is in the area."

"Yes I want to go. It's our case, we're not gonna hand it off to some Tommy dude." You wanted to go, no, you needed to go. "If we don't have something to do I'm just gonna sit in that motel room and rot waiting for your brother to come back. And since everything in me is saying he's not gonna come back, I say we go find those animals and kill 'em." You picked up your burger and ripped a huge bite out of it, your taste and hunger returning with the prospect of something to do.

"Well OK then. Let's roll."

* * *

It didn't take long to get the information you needed to find the killers, which was good because if the trend continued, there would be another murder that night. You and Dean worked quickly and efficiently, neither of you wanting to think about Sam being gone. You had tried calling him one last time before you left the motel; the call went straight to voice mail and you sat on the edge of the bed using your last bits of emotional energy to leave a message:

"So we're headed down to Ellsworth, it's not far, and we have a few hours hopefully before anyone else gets killed. I just um… look, I don't know if you're going to listen to this or not, but I just want, I need to tell you that I'm sorry. No, it's more than that really…I know you think I betrayed you, and I guess I did. I didn't meant too, obviously, and I didn't know that I was at the time, but that's no excuse. I should have told you as soon as it happened. God, it shouldn't have happened at all. This isn't coming out as I had planned…shit. Ok, look: I love you. I think I have loved you from that first moment we met back in Pennsylvania. You remember that? I'm sure you do. You're my best friend and love you and I will love you forever. And I know you're probably done with me completely, but I need you to know that I'll never stop being in love with you and I'm sorry."

"There's four of them!" Dean cursed as he climbed back into the Impala. Investigations had lead you to a dilapidated house set way back off the highway. The place had been abandoned for years, and was now apparently a rest stop for a wolf pack.

"So let's get going then." You said, reaching for the door handle.

"We need Sam."

"We do not need Sam. I can handle myself thank you. I've done this before." You got out of the car and pulled your gun out from the backseat and shoved it in your waistband next to the silver knife.

It was hard to believe you could survive with your heart beating so fast; it pounded in your chest as you followed Dean up the driveway to the house. He peeked in a window when you got close, counting monsters again. Two were in the front room, one off to the back, and the fourth was missing. You made your way to the back of the house, hoping to catch them by surprise. You held your gun in your hand and stood back as Dean picked the lock on the back door letting you both inside. The pounding in your chest rose up to your ears, blocking out any sound around you. You swallowed hard and followed Dean through a filthy kitchen towards the first werewolf. He was sitting alone at what must have been a nice dining table a hundred years ago. He was an older man with a thick gray beard; he didn't hear you come in, but must have smelled something new in the air because he turned around when Dean stepped into the room, gun aimed at his chest. The man growled and started to stand up just as Dean fired a silver bullet from his gun, hitting him right in the chest. The wolf fell forward over the table and Dean turned to you and nodded at the front room. It was on.

The two wolves heard the gunshot and rushed towards you and Dean; he ran forward towards the male, gun aimed and ready. You hung back a bit, aiming your gun at the small female in the room before you. You took a shot and missed, hitting the wall; not even close to your target. You cursed and took aim again. Dean took down his monster and came to your aid, shooting her dead with one shot. He looked at you and you shrugged. "I'm sorry!" You yelled, "I missed!"

"Y/N!" Dean yelled back, trying to warn you about the last wolf who was coming up behind you. You didn't realize what was happening until you felt yourself being pulled backwards by strong hands, your gun falling from your grip. You screamed and twisted against the hands trying to get away. The wolf pulled you back until you were against his chest, his arm around your shoulders, lifting you up off your feet. You kicked backwards trying to reach him, his claws dug into your skin and you screamed again. "Shoot him!" You yelled to Dean, his gun pointed towards you.

"I can't! I'll hit you!" He held the gun in both hands, steadying it, trying to get a clear shot.

"Just do it!" You reached under your jacket and grabbed the knife hiding in jeans. You kicked again, this time hitting the wolf's knee and spun around quickly when his grip on you loosened. You slashed at him with the knife, hitting his arm and then raised it high ready to plunge it into his heart, but he blocked you with his arm and his clawed hand ripped through your stomach. Your breath stopped, eyes wide with pain and shock. The wolf lunged forward, knocking you to the floor. His hands flew at you, claws gouging and ripping your skin. You fought back the best you could but he was too strong and the pain was burning through your body. He bared his teeth and brought his mouth down towards you as Dean finally got the shot and brought him down, firing twice into his chest. The werewolf fell down dead on top of you.

Dean pulled him off and knelt down beside you surveying the damage. You tried to sit up but couldn't, it hurt too much to move. You could feel a warm wetness flowing from your stomach; it was blood, you knew that. Dean put his arm under your neck and helped you sit up against the wall.

"Hey, hey, it's ok. You're ok." He said.

"I'm dizzy." You said, your head spinning as you sat up, your ears ringing from the gunshots.

Dean pressed his hand to your stomach and you screamed. "I'm sorry…" His voice was shaking. He took off his jacket and then his flannel and balled it up, pressing it to your wound. "Hold this, press hard…" He put your hand on the shirt; it was getting hard to focus, your vision was blurring. "Hey! Y/N… hey! You can do this. Hold it!" You obeyed, barely able to keep your eyes open.

"Dean…"

"I know. I know… hold on." He picked you up gently and you cried out again, your head rolling back against his arm. "Stay awake Y/N…I'm gonna get you help. Hold on."

"Dean… I'm sorry." You whispered.

"Shut up with your 'sorrys'. You're gonna be fine." He said, carrying you out of the house and laying you down in the back seat of the car. He sped away, wheels screeching. You held the shirt to your stomach, struggling to stay awake. You cried out with every bump in the road; every turn causing you to shift painfully to stay on the seat. You moved the shirt and looked down at your wound. Dark red blood streamed out, running down your sides and arms and onto the black leather. Your head was buzzing, the edges of your vision growing lighter, fading to white.

"Sam…"

"Just hold on Y/N." Dean called, watching you in the rearview.

"Tell him I…"

Dean called your name again and pressed the gas pedal to the floor as you slipped away, eyes fluttering closed, your breath slowing.

* * *

The darkness faded as you opened your eyes, blinking and trying to focus on what was around you. The noises and hard bed underneath you told you were in a hospital. Your mouth was dry and your body ached; you cleared your throat and looked around.

"Hey there." Dean appeared in your line of sight, sitting next to your bed. He looked pale and tired.

"You look surprised to see me." You croaked.

Dean shook his head and grabbed your hand. "No. Not a bit. I knew you'd be fine." He smiled but his green eyes gave away the lie.

"Well I'm surprised." You said with a small laugh, your voice coming back slowly.

"Eh, it was iffy for a bit there, you lost a ton of blood, but you'll be alright. Just a scratch." He flashed another smile to reassure you and sighed.

You looked around the room to see it was empty but for the two of you. The threat of tears tickled behind your eyes. "He didn't come." It wasn't a question. You knew Sam didn't show up.

Dean shrugged, not knowing what to say. "He… no he didn't. I called him. He'll be here."

"You talked to him?"

"No, but he'll come." Dean sat back and rubbed his face, trying to push away the exhaustion.

"Why don't you go get a coffee or something? You've probably been sitting here staring at me for hours." You gave him a sad smile, feeling bad that he hadn't slept.

"Yeah maybe. You want anything?"

"A cheeseburger and a ride home would be nice."

Dean laughed and got up. "I'll be right back." He said and planted a quick kiss on the top of your head. You pushed him away playfully.

Sam hadn't come. Dean told him what happened and he still didn't come. You could be dead and he wouldn't know, or care. How could he do this? How could he turn off his feelings that quickly? After everything that you'd been through, one mistake and he walked away from you forever. Did you really mean that little to him to begin with? A sob broke free from your throat and fresh pain rippled through your abdomen. There was no use fighting the tears anymore; no one could see them. You let them flow.

You must have cried yourself to sleep because the next thing you knew you were being woken up by people arguing in the hallway. The door was only half open and they spoke in hushed voices so you couldn't make out most of the words, but you knew it was Sam and Dean fighting. You'd heard it a thousand times over the last year.

Sam! Sam was here. Your moment of hope and excitement was quickly pushed away when you saw him as he opened the door. His face was the blank mask again, unreadable and silent. He paused in the doorway, his eyes looking over you.

"Thanks for coming," you said, with a sarcastic chuckle. You hadn't meant it to sound like that, but that's what came out. "You gonna say anything?"

He walked into the room and stood at the foot of your bed, towering over you and looking down with red-rimmed eyes. You could see him better now and saw that he was upset; he had been crying. He began to speak but his voice cracked so he cleared his throat and tried again: "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, I'm just great, thanks." You hated your tone, but you were mad too. Mad that he didn't come rushing here the moment Dean called him. You tried to sit up again and the movement pulled your wound. You bit your lip and tried to stifle the cry.

Sam moved over to the side of the bed and looked down at you with concern. "Sit down Sam, you're too goddamned tall. I can't see you." He obeyed and sat in the empty chair.

Neither of you spoke for a long while. You wanted to yell at him, make him talk to you. You hated the silence, but you knew it wouldn't help so you bit your tongue and waited. Suddenly he reached out and grabbed your hand, holding it in both of his. He spoke quietly with his head down: "I'm sorry." He said.

"You don't have anything to be sorry about Sam."

He looked up finally and met your eyes. "Shut up Y/N. Let me talk." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry that I waited so long to tell you how I felt. That's my fault. In my life…every time I've had anything good its been ripped away. And I was scared to have that happen with you. I should have told you. I'm sorry." He looked away from you, a few tears escaping the corners of his hazel eyes. "I love you Y/N. I do. But I don't think I can get past what happened with you and Dean. It's…I don't think I can do that."

It was your turn to look away and you wiped at your eyes roughly with your free hand. "Sam…please."

"I'm glad you're OK." He said and leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss on your hand. His lips lingered there for a few seconds, his eyes were closed and you felt his tears as they rolled down onto your skin. You turned your hand and tried to touch his face, to wipe his tears away, but he sat back quickly, drawing in a harsh breath to clear his head. He stood up and walked to the door, your mind filled with a thousand things you wanted to say, but you knew there was nothing that would change his mind. "Sam…" You cried his name, unable to say anything else.

He stopped, shook his head slowly and walked out. And that was it: it was over. You covered your face in your hands and let it all go.

-The End-

* * *

 _ **A/N: Thanks everyone for reading and liking and commenting! I feel like this isn't finished yet... but who knows. Maybe a sequel in the future. Much love, Beka**_


	5. Epilogue: Saying Goodbye

The ride back to the bunker was very different from the last one.

You had been discharged from the hospital after two days, doctors said you'd be on the mend for a few weeks, but they sent you off with some pain meds and antibiotics. Dean stayed with you the whole time, both of you stayed mostly quiet, lamenting the choices you'd made; neither one of you bringing up Sam or the fact that he'd left.

You rode back to Kansas in silence, Zeppelin on the radio to drown out your thoughts. It was raining and you watched the droplets hit the passenger side window, touching them with your fingers, tracing their paths down till they disappeared. You had stopped crying a few hours after Sam left and you hadn't started again. It was like all your tears had been used up. They did no good anyway, so why bother with them? Let the rain be your tears now with the dark gray clouds above mimicking the ones covering your heart.

"Dean, when we get back..." you said, finally voicing the decision you'd been making the entire ride home, "I think I'm gonna leave."

He looked over at you quickly and then back to the road. "What do you mean 'leave'?"

You reached over and turned off the radio. "I mean, leave the bunker. Leave you guys. Move out." You looked back out of your window. The rain was falling harder, the droplets hitting the glass with loud splats.

"I don't think that's necessary. Come on Y/N." You could feel him looking at you, but you wouldn't face him. "We need you."

You knew that was his way of saying "I love you" and you did finally turn and look at him. You smiled; "I love you too Dean, but Sam's not going to want me around. You two need to fix things between you anyway. That can't happen if I'm there. I really can't see how we can go back to the way things were. It's best if I just go. It's OK, I did have a life before The Winchesters you know."

He laughed a little at that. "I can't even imagine what you were like."

"Eh, I was pretty much the same. A little less scarred that I am now, and a lot happier..." you sighed and went back to the window. Dean turned the music back up and you rode the rest of the way home in silence.

* * *

It took you a few days to pack everything. How you'd stuffed so much junk into one little room you'd never really know. Granted you were moving a bit slower, still recovering from the attack. Dean helped you carry the boxes and bags to your little car. Sam was there, but he kept to himself, staying out of your way. He wouldn't even look at you let alone help you move out. When you'd first gotten back he had been relieved to see you. Not exactly happy, but he gave you a hug and had told you he was glad you were getting better. And that was it: he stayed away from you after that.

When the last box was packed away you turned around and smiled at Dean. "I guess this is it," you said, reaching up to give him a big hug.

"You really going?" He asked, face in your neck.

"Well I kinda have to now, all my shit's packed." You laughed.

Dean pulled away and put his hands on your shoulders. He looked at you sternly: "You be careful. And you call me if you ever need anything. I mean, anything, you call and I'll be there."

"Thanks. I'll be OK. Learned from the best." You punched him playfully in the arm, trying to use your humor to keep the tears at bay. You opened the car door and took a deep breath, ready to get going.

"Aren't you gonna say goodbye to me Y/N?"

You turned around and saw Sam standing in the doorway of the garage. "I didn't know if you wanted me to." You said, slowly closing the car door.

Dean looked back and forth between the two of you and nodded. He pulled you in for one last hug, kissing your head as he let you go. "See you soon." He said and walked out, leaving you and Sam alone for the first time since Mason City.

Sam walked slowly over to you. You crossed your arms and leaned back against the car. You felt the prickling start behind your eyes and you shook your head, willing them to stay away. "So… goodbye I guess." You said, shrugging. What else was there to say? You'd already apologized a thousand times, begged for forgiveness.

"You don't have to leave you know." He said, looking down at his shoes. Hair was falling into his face and you had to stop yourself from reaching up to push it back.

"I can't stay here Sam. You don't want me around, and I get that. It's my fault, but I can't change what happened. I hoped maybe you could see around it, but… it is what it is." He looked up at you as you spoke and you saw the old sadness return, pushing away the blank mask, pushing away the anger. You gave up trying to act like you didn't care and went to him, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him down to you. You hugged him tight, not giving him the option to pull away. To your relief he didn't; his arms wrapped around you and hugged you back just as tightly. You both held on for a long time, not willing to let this be the end. But it was, and eventually you pulled back. Looking up into his sad eyes you put your hands on his cheeks and pulled his down towards you for one last kiss.

You saw the brothers a few times over the next few years, just in passing when you happened to be working cases in the same area. You kept in touch with Dean, he'd text you occasionally to see how you were doing and you'd ask him questions if you needed any help. But that was it. In the end you looked back on your time with the Winchesters as one of the best and worst years of your life. The year you'd made a best friend, fell in love, saved some people, lost your love and almost died. You missed them everyday, but you we strong, and you carried on without them.

~The End~

* * *

 _ **A/N: Now it's really over. I couldn't leave it how it ended last chapter. I was up all night thinking about it.**_

 _ **Thank you again for reading and reviewing and liking. It means a lot. See you soon! Much love, Beka**_


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